


a kiss at long last

by niamhies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Kiss, Post-Canon, Post-War, Sort Of, but not really, mentioned ronmione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamhies/pseuds/niamhies
Summary: Ginny's home for the Christmas holidays, and Harry's offered to cook for her at the newly refurbished Grimmauld Place, both secretly wishing that they were doing something much more interesting...
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 9





	a kiss at long last

“I must say, you’ve really outdone yourself, Harry.”

Harry looked up from the carrot he was chopping up and pushed his glasses up his nose roughly as a certain redhead strolled into the newly refurbished kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Her eyes scanned the once dark and damp room that was now painted a pale green and white, still emitting the faint smell of fresh paint. Harry smiled at her when she looked over at him, her brown eyes dancing as she leant against the door frame, watching him as he prepared dinner.

“I won’t pretend and take all the credit, you know. Everyone helped out – especially Kreacher and George.” Harry reminded her, setting the cut-up carrot aside and placing another one on the chopping board.

Ginny tutted playfully. “Always so humble, aren’t you? You haven’t changed a bit,” she murmured, and the comment earned her a small smile from Harry.

He didn’t reply, and they settled into a comfortable silence as Harry chopped up the vegetables, using all his concentration to make the pieces as even as possible. After dropping the knowledge that he was somewhat of a decent cook during his sixth year – though conveniently leaving out the less pleasant aspects as to why he was, because he had been sure Ginny would not react well over his mistreatment by the hands of the Dursely’s – Ginny had been eager for him to cook something for her, promising him that her standards were low, and that nothing could ever be as bad as anything she herself made. But, not long after he had revealed that fact about himself, he had been forced to go on the run for ten months, die, come back to life, and defeat the most dangerous wizard of all time – so it was safe to say he hadn’t had much time to fit it in.

Even over the brief month Harry had allowed himself for mourning whilst he stayed at the welcoming home of the Weasley’s before deciding he had to go out and help with the rebuild of the Wizarding community, he and Ginny spent most of their frequent meeting-ups under a tree near The Burrow in silence, as unspoken words and questions flittered between themselves.

And not longer after, Ginny was packed up and ready to go back to Hogwarts for her final year – despite being heavily reluctant on the matter, though simultaneously not wanting to make her mother’s life any more difficult that it already was.

Ginny had written to him every day during her first term back. In fact, the only time she wasn’t writing to him was when she was expecting a response from him. The corresponding letters acted as a distraction for the pair of them – for Ginny who was trying to deal with the fact that she had to walk past the place her brother had been killed mere months ago on her way to Transfiguration, and for Harry who was constantly pushing away those inevitable emotions of guilt, despair, loss and grief for the incomprehensible trauma he had endured by burying himself either in work for Kingsley or helping Kreacher make Grimmauld Place an inhabitable place for human life.

As he cooked, Harry tried to keep his back turned from Ginny whenever he could, desperate not to let himself look too long into her soft eyes that he knew were gazing at him with such an intensity he could feel it in the back of his head. He felt like a schoolboy again during that short period of time when Ginny was single, and he was trying to figure out a way to ask her out that wouldn’t be too humiliating for him if she said no. And despite it being a very frustrating and longing time for him, Harry wished more than anything that he could turn back the clock and revisit those moments, just so he could live through their first kiss again, as well as the beautiful aftermath…

A loud ‘crack’ pierced the silence, causing both Harry and Ginny to jump slightly before spotting Kreacher lurk into the room, bowing his head a little at Ginny, and then bending down so far that his snout reached the floor in Harry’s direction. An exasperated smile fell on Harry's lips, no matter how many times he had reminded Kreacher that he needn’t do that, the old house elf didn’t seem to pay any notice and Harry gave up after about the fortieth time, figuring it was too ingrained in his mind after years of indoctrination.

“Master Harry, I did not know you were hungry. I would have done it for you.” Kreacher said quietly, moving around the kitchen counters and peering up at the food. He sniffed it mildly but did not grimace as he had when George tried making food on one of his earlier visits. The house had reeked of burnt food for the following two days and he decided to accept Kreacher’s offers to cook from them on.

While Harry thoroughly enjoyed the elf’s food, – it was a much better improvement from the first day he, Ron and Hermione had spent there when on the run – the last time he had checked on Kreacher, he had been engrossed in Regulus’ room – whom Harry had tasked him with sorting out as he figured it would make him happy. So, not wanting to pull Kreacher away from the room, Harry had offered Ginny to cook for her whilst she explored the new rendition of the house she hadn’t visited in quite a while.

Ginny had arrived in London only a few days prior, having met Harry and the other Weasley’s at King’s Cross, for the Christmas holidays. She had spotted him first and greeted him with a meaningful hug that lasted much longer and said a lot more than a regular one two friends would share before letting him go to hug Mrs Weasley. He had thoroughly avoided the lingering eyes of Ron, Hermione and George all the way out of the station.

When had they arrived back at The Burrow, Ginny had been very keen to catch up with him, eager to elaborate what they had written to each other over the past few months and when the topic had landed on Grimmauld Place, Ginny had made him promise that he would let her tag along the next time he stopped by there and Harry, never able to say no to the girl, promised her.

“It’s all right, Kreacher. I’m not as bad as George. You can have the night off.” Harry suggested, already knowing the face the elf would pull. It had taken the two of them some getting used to each other. Harry, who did not feel comfortable having an elf waiting hand and foot on him, had attempted to take a page out of Albus Dumbledore's book and tried to persuade Kreacher into Harry giving him a salary and days off, but Kreacher seemed aghast at the suggestion, and promptly fainted.

“So kind, Master Harry…” said Kreacher begrudgingly, “but I am a house elf… It is my job to cook.”

“Kreacher, you wouldn’t mind changing the sheets in Ron’s room, would you? Last I saw of them… well, let’s just say they look like they could do with a wash,” said Harry, diverting the subject, knowing all too well that Kreacher would not refuse. And with another bow, Kreacher disapparated, the quiet tread of footsteps heard upstairs seconds later.

Harry turned around and saw Ginny smirking at him, her eyebrows raised. “Do I even want to know what Ron’s been doing in there?” she pushed herself off against the doorframe and walked nearer to him.

Grinning, Harry shook his head. “All I’ll say is that I’m surprised Ron was able to keep his hands to himself for so long when Hermione came off the Hogwarts Express.”

This statement made Ginny snicker, and Harry’s smile widened, feeling pleased with himself that he made her laugh. He wandered over to a cupboard and took out two glasses, filling them with Butterbeer with a flick of his wand. He ignored the intrusive memory that floated in his mind – when not long ago he sat in this very kitchen with a Butterbeer in his hands and a now deceased Remus Lupin sat opposite him…

Ginny, noticing the smile drop from his face, took her hand from around her glass and placed it on top of his, rubbing the faded words on the back of his hand with her thumb. Harry was mildly started at the abrupt touch, but made no attempts to shy away from her. 

“Are you okay, Harry?”

Harry shivered at the touch, his skin alight. He had missed her so much. Swallowing thickly, he nodded and glanced over at her, his eyes meeting hers, those brown eyes he adored so dearly. They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence, taking in one another’s appearance as though it were the last time they would be able to look at each other again. A hungry burn soared in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he fought the urge to lean over the kitchen top and kiss her, to relish in the distant memory of her lips. For a split second, Harry thought that, this time, Ginny was going to seal the kiss they both longed for, but his brain reeled in cowardice and he leant back, clearing his throat.

“Would you like a room here?” he asked her politely, though his voice wavered.

Grimmauld Place had too many rooms. Far too many. Despite the hard work Harry, Ron, George, Kreacher, and the odd Weasley every now and again had produced in order to completely reinvent the place, they had without a doubt underestimated how big the building was. And with Harry and Ron spending long days at the Ministry, they didn’t have more than a few spare hours at the end of the day to join in on the effort, though they were both fiercely determined to work until they were falling asleep against old brooms and tables covered with cleaning supplies – because the other alternative was to actually let their brains think and minds wander, and that was the last thing they wanted. Harry suspected that was why George had joined in on the effort so enthusiastically, though never dared to voice the thought.

“A what?” said Ginny, blinking. Harry noticed her cheeks had coloured a little and remembered back when he could make her blush easily – all he had to do was kiss her more passionately than a usual greeting or parting chaste peck, or tell her how beautiful she looked, or trail tentative fingers along her skin…

“A room. You know, after Hogwarts, if you’d ever like a place to stay… There’s so many, you can pick any you want, and we’ll have it done before you graduate. Only if you want, obviously…” said Harry sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck like he did whenever he was nervous.

At his words however, Ginny frowned, and her shoulders fell.

“What- Er, did… did I cross a line?” he asked gingerly, inwardly swearing at himself. Had he been too obvious? Surely it hadn’t upset her, it wasn’t as though he had asked her to sleep in his bed, was it?

But Ginny blinked, and furrowed her brows in confusion. “What?”

Harry cleared his throat, starting to wish he had never asked. “I didn’t mean it – you know – like that… I mean, I’m sure Hermione will be staying over a lot because Ron’s here – and well, he won’t let me live by myself.” Harry rambled, not really sure what he was saying anymore, but set on convincing himself that he didn’t care whether Ginny Weasley wanted to live with him or not. He came to an abrupt stop when he met her daring glance, arms crossed over her chest. Before Harry could question her strange stance though, she spoke.

“Where do you sleep?”

Harry blanched, unexpecting the question. “What?”

Butterbeer long forgotten, Ginny walked around the small kitchen island, so she was only a mere few steps from Harry.

“Where do you sleep?” she echoed.

“Er- on the third floor,” he told her, maintaining eye contact with her. An image flooded his brain suddenly, of him and Ginny sharing his bed, picking up from where they left off the night before.

“So why do you need to fix up a new room for me when I could just sleep in there?” she asked simply, the familiar mischievous glint fixed in her gaze, seeming to wholeheartedly enjoy flustering the boy in front of her.

Harry almost choked on his own breath, attempting to comprehend the words that left Ginny’s mouth. He stared at her in astonishment, his heart beat picking up in ways that he thought long gone. “Sleep… In a room… With me…” he stated, though it sounded more like a question – or perhaps a request.

Ginny nodded firmly. “Yes.”

The creature in Harry’s chest was roaring in triumph, though he was still hesitant for it to allow him to believe she was implying what he thought she was implying. “Like in a bed?”

Huffing, Ginny took a step closer to him and Harry held in a breath. “Well, I hope so yes. I doubt the floor is particularly comfortable.”

Gazing at her in mild awe, Harry had to admire her daringness. He had excessively planned out many scenario’s ever since the day they split up where he told her he was still absolutely taken with her – and that he wanted her to be his future so desperately – but every time he had tried to voice it, the words were never able to come out. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was the horrible guilt that overwhelmed him whenever he thought about Fred that stopped him from telling her or his own insecurities that she had moved on and had finally realised her worth.

Harry closed the gap, forcing himself to do so, and with hesitant hands, he tucked a stray piece of Ginny’s hair behind her ear. She leaned into his ghost of a touch and he cupped her cheek gently, revelling in the feeling of his skin on hers.

“Ginny,” he breathed, her name rolling off his tongue effortlessly – it was the only word in the world that made sense to him. Ginny.

Ginny leaned into him and placed one of her hands against his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart before trailing the hand up his chest, his collarbone, his neck, and into his very messy, very soft hair. It was that action alone that overpowered Harry’s restraint, and acting on an erratic impulse, he leaned down and kissed her.

As they held one another in their arms, Harry realised just to the extent how much he had missed Ginny, the touch of her lips on his and the feelings that erupted inside of him whenever he spent time in her company. Their lips moved over one another like a puzzle piece, putting their heart and souls into that kiss, trying to make the other understand to the extent just how much they had missed moments like this, and each other. Harry’s hands found her waist and Ginny racked hers through his untidy hair, pulling him down further. He made a small noise of pleasure that awakened locked emotions in Ginny that during those terrible months of war, she thought would never see the light of day again. It made her heart soar at how wrong she had been.

They stood like that for a moment longer, only separating when the need to breath became essential. As their lips left the others, Harry pressed himself against her, a dazed smile on his face. He was pleasantly joyous when he saw Ginny beaming straight back at him.

“Now that I think about it, you should definitely sleep in my room. One less room for Kreacher to tidy, isn’t it?” Harry said, feigning a look of thoughtfulness.

Ginny giggled reluctantly, still playing with his hair. The next words that came out of her mouth almost made Harry pinch himself.

"I missed you."

The timid murmur that she had spoken told Harry all he needed to know - for now, at least. Because Ginny Weasley had just asked to sleep in his bed, kissed him back, and told him she had missed him, all within the space of five minutes. And Harry didn't think he could recall ever feeling quite so happy. A glimmer of hope scorched his senses, and clouded his judgement, and all he could think of was kissing Ginny again, and speaking deeply with her, and holding her in his arms until the night was over. It was like Christmas had come two days early.

"I missed you... so much, Gin," he whispered back, even more quietly.

Those words seemed to affect her greatly, especially at the use of her nickname which was reserved only for him, as she clenched her eyes closed for a moment, her lips parted and pressed her forehead against his chest, breathing a deep shudder. When she looked back up at him, Harry tentatively brought his hand up to her face and traced the outline of her lips with his thumb, just like he knew she used to loved. Ginny's lips parted further, whilst Harry marvelled at how perfectly breath taking she was, and this time it was her who initiated the kiss - pulling him down whilst she stood on her tiptoes, pressing her soft lips against him. Harry melted into her, and after growing bored with the limitations Grimmauld Place's kitchen, he allowed her to guide him clumsily up the stairs, vaguely recognising that they were heading towards his room, the dinner in the oven long forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone, hope you enjoyed! i really enjoyed writing this, and it's just one of my many scenario's on how i think their first kiss post-war would've gone. leave a comment, if you'd like to lmk what you though :)
> 
> also, i'd just like to comment that i don't support jkr or any of her transphobic views or harmful stereotypes, and if you do, please don't read my works again. thanks.


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